


Perihelion

by buttpatrol



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Because I Can't Not, Look Austin just dropped that whole scene with Ephrim and you know who and it was a lot okay, Other, Short One Shot, Some vague gestures towards Samot/Samothes, This is less of a fic, Unbeta'd, and Hella/Hadrian if you squint, and more a Samothes flavored narritive, into which i try to unpack the end of Undelivered resignations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttpatrol/pseuds/buttpatrol
Summary: And Samothes wonders, why Hadrian?





	

The universe is moving again. 

He feels it in the bones of him, that Hieron moves once more. Stars shake themselves out of dark sky, and armies move in locked step time, and Death itself crests and breaks across the face of the continent.

Samothes watches, as he has always done. 

Samot has set objects in motion again. Always with one more grand plan to save everything, to let no more precious things slip through his grasp as he tries to hold the shape of the world together.

And Samothes wonders, why Hadrian?

Samothes knows why  _ he  _ likes Hadrian. Hadrian is tall, and strong, and hard working. Forthright and often morbidly serious, and so willing to bend to the yoke of responsibility, to be crushed under the weight of his faith. A good paladin, a good tool. 

He reminds Samothes of all the best and worst parts of himself, and sometimes he wonders if creation is working in mysterious ways, that his desire to persist echoed in Hieron until it manifested into one grave young man in Velas. In his weaker moments, Samothes dreams maybe Samot had missed him,  that the feeling was still strong enough for the breadth of them to accidentally create a man. A foil. Something just a little familiar.

Hadrian was also a wry sense of humor, an earnest if not awkward friend, a worrywart, a conflicted father, a conflicted son. 

This is unkind. To Samot, but also to Hadrian, for Samothes to reduct him in just one thing, to see only the ways he reminded him of himself. Because maybe in his fits of ego and nostalgia, he has got things the wrong way round. 

Somewhere out there, in the dark and the snow, Hadrian starts to reach for Hella Veral’s hand, but stops himself, instead settling for just looking her in the eye and-- “We have to try, don’t we". He smiles, rueful, and it's not really a question at all.

And maybe it’s with these thoughts in mind that Samothes goes looking for an apostle, a foil of his own. Ephrim’s faith burns clean and and hot, caustic and alchemical. Faith is not a weight but a fuel, and outlet for the force of his personality. Ephrim who enjoys his wine as much as his work, who talks fast, and doesn't hide his light.

Samothes has made many tools, but never has he let the raw materials, molten and yet to be shaped, loose into the world. But the stars are falling, and the world is ending, and he has to move, has to catch up to Samot one more time before it is too late.

  
And so he pours his fire into the boy, and plucks the sun from the sky. Maybe this time time it will be enough.


End file.
